


firewall

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Emperor Hux, Force-Sensitive Hux, Hux is Not Nice, M/M, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Submissive Kylo Ren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:11:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6937264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Everything around [Ren] has always seemed to hush, as if the very space he occupies is terrified of his presence. But even as Ren seizes Hux’s hair, drags his chin back to meet his eyes— Hux is not afraid of him, has never been afraid of him. Why should he be, when all that rage, all that power, belongs to him?</i> </p>
            </blockquote>





	firewall

Hux keeps things clean. Orderly. Under his jurisdiction nothing is ever displaced, mismanaged, inefficient. He believes, as his father had, in the subjection of those beneath him. There are very specific measures that he upholds, in order to maintain distance between his regiment, and his regulation.

 

Kylo Ren is the one exception to his every rule.

 

“Hux.”

 

He hadn’t even heard the door hiss open but Ren is there anyhow, slumped in the doorway, just a smear of a shadow against the low-lit frame of the hall. His body is curved, shoulders tensed and bent in; his chest pitches and falls in rapid succession, as though he is restraining himself with a great deal of difficulty. There is blood on his robes, his hands. Streaked across his cheek.

 

“Ren.” Hux frowns, displeased with the Knight’s filthy appearance, and glances back down at the data pad cradled in his hands, careful to keep his voice indifferent, his mind clear. “You’re a day early.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“A day off _schedule,”_ Hux rephrases, a benign warning. “You didn’t warn me you’d be arriving sooner than expected.”

 

Ren makes a noise, low, animal, in the back of his throat. “I thought it would please you,” he says.

 

“Hmm,” Hux murmurs, gaze still trained on the screen in front of him. “Perhaps it will.” He is not actually reading any of the words that scroll past, but Ren is too deeply submerged in his own desires to know that; Hux relishes in the hot waves of hunger radiating from him. “It depends very much on the nature of your return, and the completion of the assignment you were given.”

 

There’s a snarl, a flurry of robes; Ren is in front of him within seconds, crossing the scope between them silent and swift, summing hardly a sound, not even from the heavy weight of his footfalls. Everything around him has always seemed to hush, as if the very space he occupies is terrified of his presence. But even as Ren seizes Hux’s hair, drags his chin back to meet his eyes— Hux is not afraid of him, has never been afraid of him. Why should he be, when all that rage, all that power, belongs to him?

 

Hux _tsk_ s as the Knight twists his grip, pulls, strands of red hair caught between the fingers of his bloodied gloves. “Ren,” he says, chiding him lightly, warily still in his savage grasp. “Careful.”

 

Ren lets go of him, panting, wild-eyed. _I have done everything that you asked,_ he says, his voice echoing in Hux’s head, rolling low and deep and unsteady, yearning flaring bright as Hux steps out of reach, back behind the desk. _The Senator is dead, I killed him._

 

“And the body?”

 

Ren’s mind curls against his again and he sees it behind his eyes, the way that Ren had stalked out of the ship with the corpse dragging behind him, still-hot blood smeared across glistening white tiles. _I kept his skull intact,_ Ren says frantically, dark eyes following the track of Hux’s body as he slides his data pad into a carefully-kept file. _For you. Because I knew you’d want it._

 

Hux pauses. Then turns, placidly nonchalant, and meets Ren’s gaze.

 

“That’s very good,” he says, his voice soft.

 

The words are like a command. Ren goes to his knees as Hux steps before him again, all of that spiking, erratic temper snuffed to a candle-breadth, wavering in the palm of Hux’s hand. He draws his fingers through Ren’s hair as Ren gazes up at him, dark eyes liquid-black, pitched back on his heels. “Everything you asked,” he says, breathlessly, pleading.

 

“Yes,” Hux says, gently, stroking his hair. “You did well. Just as I instructed, so capable, so obedient, aren’t you.” Ren shudders, pressing his face against Hux’s thigh, feeding on every delicately placed word of praise like a starving creature, gorging itself on the sparse scraps tossed its way, holding Hux’s approval defensively close to his ribs.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, words muffled against the fabric of Hux’s trousers, arms wrapped around Hux’s calf. Desperation surges up at the edges of Hux’s mind, overflowing from Ren’s. “My arrival was premature.”

 

“You are aware that I dislike surprises,” Hux agrees, his hand stilling in Ren’s hair, his thoughts drawn back to the work he’s been forced to set aside. “That was careless of you.”

 

Ren’s breath hitches, exhaling warm against his thigh, and he feels a fevered heat stir low in his belly. “I’m sorry,” he repeats fervently, clutching more tightly at Hux, as if he’s worried he’ll be kicked away. It’s not an unreasonable fear. Physical reprimand has been known to happen here, on the rare occasions that Ren has come to him with less-than-ideal results. Hux has never held back from punishment, well-placed, in the instances that it has become necessary. And Ren has never stopped him, even though he could.

 

And he surely could, if he chose to. At any time he could turn the tables, he could make Hux bow to him, instead. It could easily be Hux wearing his knees raw on the floor of Ren’s quarters, Hux grasping at Ren’s robes, hitching them to Ren’s waist the way Ren tugs Hux’s trousers to his knees. It could be Hux bleating out confessions, and apologies, and swallowing down Ren’s praise and cock the way that Ren swallows down his.

 

But Ren is not Emperor. And Hux is not a Knight. And this is the way that they have fallen together, the way that they have caught and aligned. Ren mouths between Hux’s thighs and Hux groans and gasps and pets Ren’s hair, and this is the way that it is, that it will be, until they have fought and fucked and slaughtered their way to the very top.

 

Ren leaves dried blood on the backs of Hux’s legs and smudges scarlet over the sharp bones of his hips, and Hux will scold him for it later. But for now he looks down at the bob of Ren’s dark head through pale eyelashes and sighs out, _good, p_ _erfect, like that,_ in Ren’s head, for Ren alone, and Ren rubs himself off, desperately, on that wordless flattery, and the toe of Hux’s boot.

 

He comes— immediately after Hux does, as if Ren’s release is something else that he has within his control— whimpering, short-winded, face flooded scarlet as he draws back for approval.

 

Hux says, “Stand.” And he does. Hux takes his jaw between his thumb and fingers, and says, “Ren.”

 

Ren swallows and Hux hears it, feels it. And Ren kisses him and Hux feels that, too, and then he thinks he hears something else, quieter, ashamed, he thinks he hears something secret, spilled over between the blur of their separate minds, still caught up in each other, maybe, he hears something he wasn’t supposed to.

 

And he thinks, this—

 

He—

 

He could very well be the one exception of Ren’s.

 

 


End file.
